“The Ghost, that one is,” said Tuskin, looking down at the gray clad corpse that lay on the ground. “He was coming for you, Zar!”
The man ran his fingers through his wild brown braids, scratching his head a few times. He then shined a smile at Shahla, who stood silently a few paces behind Zar.
“Ah, I’m being quite rude, I daresay.” Zar chuckled and motioned a hand to Shahla. “Tuskin, this is … Scarlet Quill. Scarlet, here’s the man we’ve been looking for.”
“Well met,” said Shahla.
“Aye, well met!” Tuskin heartily agreed.
Zar stepped to the corpse and examined it. The arrow had pierced directly through the heart area. The man’s face was smooth, his eyes small. His mouth was slightly open. There was a belt of throwing knives under his cloak, and the same small throwing knives were fastened by the pair on both of his boots and gauntlets. “Tuskin, this was a good shot.”
“He was waiting at the edge of the forest for ya,” said Tuskin with a grin. “He saw you go in, and was waitin’ for you to come out.”
“And why didn’t he follow us into Blackwood?” said Shahla with squinting eyes.
“Because I’d be in Blackwood,” Tuskin answered. “He didn’t want to risk having to fight me and Zar at the same time. “I saw you before you entered my forest—was goin’ to catch up and greet ya when I saw this one following you. He waited in that tree for three days just to kill ya—I kept an eye on him here.” Tuskin chuckled. “When I saw the man he was following you, so he didn’t notice me, but as the two of you traveled into the wood he stopped and began to look around for somewhere high to sit and wait. I had come so close to him at that time that if I would’ve tried to move away, he’d of noticed me. I wanted to follow and greet ya— and warn ya, but I was too close to him. That’s a dangerous game to play with this one. Without you two to divert his attention—one move, one shift in the brush from me and he’d of found me—probably put a knife in me before I put an arrow in him. I know the man. It was a dangerous game to play.” Tuskin burst out in chuckles again. “So I stayed right there. I stayed there, Zar, and so did he, for three days. Zar, I’m starving! Do you have food in that saddlebag?” Tuskin looked over Zar’s shoulder to Asha.
Zar laughed. “Aye. Asha, come here.”
When the camel came, Zar pulled out a dried piece of the venison he had shared with Shahla days before. Tuskin took it eagerly and ate.
“We’ve killed the Butcher,” said Zar.
Tuskin’s eyes widened and sparkled. “Aye! Good!
Good! The apostates are finished,” he said with a full mouth. “All except for me, of course.” The man burst into laughter.
“Do you have a camp here in these woods?”
“Aye, a few hours travel,” Tuskin answered. “This way.” The man motioned the way, and Zar and Shahla led their mounts after him. “I knew you’d return, Zar.”
“Truly?”
“No,” Tuskin called, chuckling out the word. “Not truly. But I hoped it—hoped it with all my heart!”
The camp was simple yet well considered—a shaded dell of blackwoods and churs with a long snare of bells wired around it’s perimeter. The trip line ran low around the trunks of the trees—a thin leather cord sprinkled with branches and leaves that ran around the entire camp’s border except for a three foot gap that Tuskin led the party through. There was a lookout post in one of the high trees, a seat crudely fashioned of boards fastened to the trees’
branches that Zar and Shahla hadn’t noticed until Tuskin pointed to it.
Zar led Asha toward a patch of ground in the corner.
“No, not there,” the man called, holding his hand out for Zar to stop walking. “It’ll probably hold your weight, but not hers.” Tuskin glanced back at Asha. “She’ll fall into the hole.” The man lifted the imitation ground covering and revealed the cavity, a tunnel stretching into the darkness, headed out of camp. “I can hide in it if I don’t want anyone knowin’ I’m here. Or I can use it to escape.”
When Tuskin had shown them a few other curiosities of the camp and offered them food and water, the three assembled on the forest floor around a fire as the day left them.
“Speak it, Zar,” said Tuskin, his eyes gleaming in the fire’s light. “What is the plan?”
30
THE WAY HAD BECOME unwelcomely rugged, and Zar climbed up and slid down the rocks, following the map Tuskin had drawn for him on a folded piece of cloth. The area boasted steep hills with sharp inclines, and cliffs as pervasive and parlous as those of Or. Tuskin had sworn that Zar wouldn’t have to climb into the high cliffs to reach the common area of the city. He had insisted that only the Condor could scale up to the higher places of their city, and that Zar would arrive at a clearing that Tuskin had referred to as the Low Hollow before he needed to do any serious climbing. He hoped the man had remembered everything correctly.
The cliffs rose higher by the moment, and the spaces between them grew narrower. Zar had traveled a series of paths that were like corridors of stone, with the exits and openings to the next pathways often being tight clefts between the cliffs he had to squeeze his way through. It was either that, or climb up and over them, which looked nearly impossible, not to mention quite dangerous. He looked down at the map again. According to Tuskin’s drawings he was precisely where he needed to be.
“This is where I’m supposed to be,” said Zar, almost forgetting that Asha wasn’t with him this time. According to the map, the narrow gorge he traveled that squeezed tightly between the high cliffs and crags on either side of him would soon open to the Low Hollow.
Shadows fluttered on the left side of Zar’s vision and he glanced up quickly into the cliffs. High in the distance, on a giant crag that speared into the sky, a few bleary figures scurried off the rock’s surface and disappeared. The earth before Zar dipped down as the pathway opened into a clearing, and he knew he was approaching the Low Hollow that looked to be a basin as the ground depressed and the hills cleared, leaving a round and sunken cavity that was uniquely free of cliffs. Zar placed his hands in the air in front of his body.
He kept his hands raised as he walked into the basin, and figures emerged ubiquitously from behind the scattered boulders ahead in the clearing. They crawled from all corners of the rocks, some crouched on their hands and feet, others standing tall, brandishing bows and blades. In the hollow around him they crept towards him and stared, and in the cliffs on the edges above archers stood on the mounts, eyeing him scrutinously while aiming their drawn bows.
It was silent—too silent. Zar imagined there were likely hundreds of eyes studying his every movement, wondering who he was, why he was there. He could feel the tension—quiet and deadly—of a stranger walking unannounced into their home during a time of strategic war. He hoped that tension wouldn’t be alleviated by an arrow or lance flying into his heart.
“Why have you come?”
Zar looked around. An assemblage of cold and grim faces had scattered around him, mostly women, leather-hide clad and armed to the teeth.
“I have come for words,” said Zar, finally finding the face that had spoken. She was a tall woman, and attractive, with brown skin that shone under the midday sun and a sword sheathed at her side. She was the only one who hadn’t drawn a weapon, standing on a boulder twenty paces ahead, and sharing the stone with three others.
There was a woman directly to her right with a bow and arrow drawn who looked especially eager to kill him, a smirk on her lips. On the woman’s left side stood two others; a man and a woman identical in appearance. Another glance and Zar confirmed that they must be twins, brother and sister, both holding spears at their sides and looking quite calm.
While it had taken Zar a few moments to filter through all of the faces to find the person he needed to speak to, it was now obvious that the woman in the center of the group was Anza, perched on a high boulder in the middle of the hollow, her right hand attendants at her sides.
“Te
ll us who you are and tell us quickly,” she said.
“My name is Zar.”
“Aye, Zar, I have heard of you. What are you doing in this place, and how did you find it?”
“A friend told me about this place,” Zar replied.
Anza couldn’t hide the curiosity in her eyes, nor did she attempt to. Instead, she smiled slightly. “Zar,” her voice struck with authority, “do you see the woman standing to my right? She wants very badly to kill you.”
Zar glanced at the woman to Anza’s right side and her eyes gleamed as she nodded her head, setting a stare on Zar that looked intense enough to pierce his flesh deeper than the arrow she pulled.
“If you don’t tell me why you’re here, I’m going to let her,” Anza continued. “Tell me quickly.”
“I want to help you win the war with Snowstone.”
“Help,” called Anza, offering a chuckle. “The man wants to help,” the woman called to the people around her before looking back at Zar. “And how would you help us, Zar the Wayfarer?”
Zar grinned; it was the first he had heard of the title. “With information,” he said, “information that can help you win.”
Anza leaned to her left and whispered something to the twins that stood beside her. The two scurried off and were gone into the hills.
“I’ve come alone,” said Zar. “There’s no need to check.”
“You’ve come uninvited,” returned Anza, sharply.
“And whatever trick this is you’ll wait in chains while I find out.”
“No,” called Zar, “There’s no time. You need to hear this now—you all do. I know I’m a stranger here, but you must at least hear me out.”
“We must? Why?” the woman demanded, her voice course, her eyes unblinking. “Why should we listen to your lies? You’re nothing more than a vagabond, a rogue, however skilled with that blade you may be.”
“I’m afraid you’re wrong,” said Zar, raising his voice as he looked up into the cliffs at the grim faces staring down upon him and the others surrounding him in the basin that looked on just as mercilessly. “I am Zar, Prince of Xuul, Leviathan’s Contender, and Patron of the Lost City. You will hear my words!”
While Anza stared silently, Zar heard mentions of the land across the sea in curious whispers around him. “Serradiia?” a voice from behind him uttered. “The land across the sea?” another could be heard. It seemed he still had their attention, at least for a moment, and it was moment he would not waste.
“If you indeed listen to what I say,” he continued, “you will soon realize I am telling the truth—the truth as it was told to me by a man named Stroan.”
Anza’s eyes jumped and it looked like her mouth might drop open, but among the gasps and whispered questions of the people around her, she kept herself relatively contained.
“I met him on my way, after saving a woman who is dear to me from Tiomot’s perversions. He saw what I did, and it compelled him to tell me his story. It was the story of a woman named Yuna, how he loved her, and how he was kept from her.”
Once again voices muttered in the basin around him, and whispers of the dead woman’s name fluttered hauntingly through the air.
“Although I did not completely understand, Stroan told me he could not be with Yuna because of the obligations of his queen and clan. All the man wanted was a life with Yuna, away from his duties here, away from you.” Zar stared calmly into Anza’s eyes. “He then told me his plan,” Zar continued, “a plan of betrayal.”
“Why would he tell this to you?” Anza snapped, and her eyes had changed from still and calm to wide and watery.
“Because he was troubled,” Zar answered. “And those of us who know Stroan know he is a man of passion—and action. As I said, he was moved when he saw me save the woman I love, and was thus moved to action. I suspect that he had been troubled for some time—serving you while loving Yuna—not being able to live as he wanted.”
Anza’s eyelids flickered quickly over her shimmering brown orbs, and it looked like she was blinking back tears.
“He would not betray me!”
“Then where is he, Anza? Where are they? Has anyone seen them? They are gone, away on a new life while Tiomot plans your end! Stroan has betrayed you, and the information he provided Tiomot bought freedom for Yuna. They are gone. I tell you this because I despise Snowstone. The evils it has brought this land are innumerable. I tell you these things that you may act. Strike first, or be destroyed when Tiomot comes. He knows your plans and position, all provided by Stroan. He prepares now to attack to you. If his army makes it here you will be erased from history. There are some who already believe the Condor no longer exist, and if you don’t act now, they will be right.
“In my life I have been many things: a killer, wanderer, thief, adventurer, mercenary, soldier, but I have never been a liar. I have told you the truth, now what will you do with it?”
“Take him,” said Anza, and at once and out of nowhere, two women of the clan approached Zar brandishing shackles. They clamped the chains on his wrists and ankles and led him to their dungeon in the rocks, a dark cave under the cliffs, its walls the natural cavity of the rock secured in the front with a gate constructed of logs.
Zar had been in the dungeon a few hours when he began to review the plan in his mind. Tuskin had said she would do this, that she would not kill him, but lock him up while she searched for answers. She was too smart, Tuskin had advised, to kill a man suspected of falsifying information without knowing the purpose of said falsification and how it might affect her. If she did truly suspect him of lying, she would not kill him, or, at least, not yet.
Though it was out of necessity, Zar didn’t feel good about using Stroan and Yuna in his deception, throwing around the names of the dead to add credibility to his lie. Well, half-lie. The fact that much of what he said about Stroan and Yuna was true made things a lot easier, and Zar could tell he had affected Anza with his words. In fact, the story seemed to appeal to her emotions far more than he had expected, though he didn’t know why. He was certain the Condor would be marching off to take Snowstone, for if they believed what he said—and he was sure they did—they would realize they hadn’t the time to wait and check his facts if they were going to beat Tiomot to the punch. Zar had revealed so much intimate information about Stroan and Yuna that he was certain they didn’t doubt him at all, for he had seen all their faces, heard their gasps and whispers as he told his tale. They would march on Snowstone, Shahla would come shortly after to free him, and Tuskin would meet them at Snowstone with Dandil’s army.
Zar wasn’t sure who would win the battle between the Condor and Tiomot’s castle guard, and it didn’t matter. What he did know was that the number of men in Tiomot’s gatehouse and castle guard would not be far off from the number of Condor who would be attacking. No matter the victor, their numbers would be cut down enough from the fighting for Dandil’s men to take the castle from them.
Zar knew it would work because of who the Condor were. They weren’t an army. They were a collection of skilled killers, nothing short of assassins, who would slip through to the castle without alerting the surrounding houses who were loyal to Tiomot and would come to his aid. They weren’t an army of hundreds or thousands, marching hard in rhythm while blowing horns and alerting every retainer of Tiomot in the mainreach that Snowstone was under attack and needed aid.
With the Condor, by the time anyone got word of the attack on Snowstone the fighting would already be done, and if Dandil’s army arrived in good time the castle would belong to the king of the south before any retainer of Tiomot readied a company of men to take it back. By that time it would be too late, for Snowstone was a fortress, and any decent army that took it would be able to hold it.
Zar smiled considering how thorough he and Tuskin had been with their plan, and only stopped his contemplation when footsteps sounded down the hall. The person drew closer until he could see Anza wearing a lifeless face, looking at him through the w
ooden bars with empty eyes.
“If I find you’ve lied to me, I will make you suffer,” she said.
“Fine,” said Zar, relaxing against the hard stone wall. “You will learn that I’ve told the truth, and if not, it won’t be too much trouble coming back here to kill me, I daresay.”
“Kill you?” said Anza, now almost grinning. “I said I’d make you suffer, I never said anything about killing you. Make no mistake, Zar, if we decide to march on Snowstone, you march with us.”
“As you wish,” said Zar, holding Anza’s gaze. He kept his face solemn and shrugged slightly, showing the woman he was unbothered by the fact while inwardly acknowledging that it made him more than a little nervous. This wasn’t a part of the plan.
31
ZAR THOUGHT THAT ANZA must’ve been especially confident in Yari Thorn’s abilities, for not only was it her duty to guard Anza, she was now also charged with guarding him—though it was a different type of guarding entirely. Not that Zar hadn’t known that if he even looked suspicious she would bury an arrow in the back of his skull, but Anza had explicitly told her—aloud and in front of the others—to kill him quickly if he tried anything. To make matters worse, he was made to travel a good ways in front of the rest of them, and it was the first time in a long while he feared an arbitrary death from behind.
Zar had always considered himself to be a fit man and in fighting shape, but the hike up the hill to Snowstone Castle made him quickly reconsider. He was reminded that while a tyrant, Tiomot was certainly no fool, and the absence of a moat meant nothing compared to the steepness of the hill the castle was constructed on. Even when stopped to rest, just maintaining an upright position while standing on the hill was an exercise in itself, and Zar imagined that an army of fully armored soldiers would have no success at all in attempting to scale it. The Condor, however, trekked up the hill without a stop, pause, or any sign of difficulty—which made perfect sense to Zar having the seen the cliffs of their own home.
Roads of the Righteous and the Rotten (Order of Fire Book 1) Page 29
